Teddy and Related Dipwads in Space
by RaiveMessrenger
Summary: Teddy gets snatched up in his favorite gay bar. Now, he deals with a police call box.
1. Pickles and Whiskey Shots

I always get myself in these pickles. And they aren't your ordinary dill pickles. No, these are bathed in a concoction of arsenic, nitroglycerin, and fire-whiskey. Yes, too much fire whiskey. Damn that sexy beast. I thought he was taking me back to his place for a shag. I was so mistaken. It wouldn't have been too outrageous for me, especially at Iron Leggings. Let's see, there was Zoey, Davis, Roshandala, and that sexy pair of male twins. But this guy was different. He was rather nicely dressed with a fez and bowtie. Seriously, a fez and a bowtie, that's just bizarre. I've had my quirky outfits, too, but this guy was adorning himself with the most outdated accessories. Though, they made him, what's the word … mysterious. Maybe it's tantalizing. And that was all the hook I needed to follow him to wherever he wanted.

We came up to a police call box. Yup, it was official, this guy was a lunatic. First he walks into a popular gay bar, wearing a bowtie and a fez. Then, he expects me to shag him in a police call box. I don't think it's right to be doing the business in a place where people contact the police. I was kind of afraid to refuse his gesture to come in. What if he really was a psychotic loon, who was going to rape me if I kept taking his lucky charms? I stretched my arm to the door, reaching for the handle. I was rooted there, petrified in terror and shock. Three arms were extended from the booth. Each was different. One was in the sleeve of the lunatic who brought me here. One was a cream color, with a soft, feminine appeal about it. The last was male. Definitely male. Rough hands and hairy arms all led to man. Each hand grabbed at my frozen limb, and dragged me in.

The inside was about fifteen times larger than the outward appearance. Why was this such a weird experience? I mean it's not like I haven't experienced space compression before. The inside of Lily's closet had compression magic. What had made this so unordinary? I blame the six shots of fire-whiskey. The inside of this call box was bizarre. I kept exploring every inch. The bowtied man walked over to me, and inquired something, but I was too distracted by the equipment in this so called police box. And then, nothing. Everything went black as my head swelled in pain.


	2. Doctors and Whatzits

I awoke, but everything was foggy. My vision was blurred, and the voices seemed amplified in sound but enunciation was barely existent.

"I think he's awake," a slightly effeminate voice rang, "Amy, why don't you slap him in the face?"

"Is that necessary? I mean, if he is actually awake, what would the purpose be?" A more effeminate voice inquired

"Safe measure."

"Fine," the more effeminate voice responded. Then, my face felt the icy hot sting of a woman's slap.

"Bloody hell! Is there something crawling up your arse to make you slap me so hard?" the words flew from my mouth as hard as I flew out of the closet at age thirteen. What right did this woman have to slap me? It wasn't like I had slept with her boyfriend. I have learned from that mistake. Did you know Victoire can punch, hard? Either way, she had no right.

"I think he's awake," said the bowtied man, in the voice I had heard first, "Why'd you follow me here?"

"You wanted me to follow you!"

"I took your hand and left a lingering touch. I didn't expect you to follow me,"

"Yet you act like a man who wanted a good shag,"

"Amy, define shag,"

"It's a slang term meaning… It means…He was expecting you to, um," stuttered model-like ginger woman, in the effeminate voice that had slapped me.

"He thought you wanted to make love with him," a masculine voice slashed through the air.

"I love making love. It's better than war. But making love should only be between living things. Because a rock can't produce love, it just accumulates it. I guess if we smashed rocks and gave pieces to the world, it'd be like spreading the love," He continued on rambling like that. I turned and faced the other man.

"Does he always ramble on like this?" My question seemed to attract the attention of the male.

"Yeah, always. Quite frankly, I can't see why my wife finds these fits of verbal diarrhea entertaining and intelligent. I barely see the brilliance in them, but it's always turned out all right in the end. My name is Rory, by the way,"

I took has hand and shook it, "I'm Teddy,"

"That woman is my wife, Amy. And that gent' over there is The Doctor."

"The Doctor. The doctor of who?" I said incredulously.

"The universe," Amy had turned to me, "He fixes the problems in the universe, along with the time stream."

"I don't get it done, though, without my lovely assistants." The Doctor interjected, "I am of a specific race, called a Timelord. I come from the planet Gallifrey. And this, this is a T.A.R.D.I.S. It sands for 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space,'"

"Well Applying to my situation, it seems more like 'Teddy and Related Dipwads in Space'. No offense, but you dunderheads seem rather incompetent," I said.

"Did he just call me incompetent," The Doctor was getting flustered," Me? Incompetent? Oh well!" The Doctor had given a quirky giggle, and then continued on , "Now, where is our next destination?"

"Let's go to Paris, winter of 1920!" Amy dashed for the controls.

"No," The Doctor sighed.

"Please?"

"No,"

"Pretty please?"

"No," and then The Doctor flipped a series of switches, pulled several buttons, and activated a mass of hoozits and whatzits. "Brace yourself, this could be a tad bumpy,"

And that is how my adventures began. But only time decides where I'm going from here. Because, you see, I'm in a space/time machine with a bunch of dipwads.


End file.
